


Flowers of Galra

by morvish



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Keith's mother's death is mentioned very briefly, thace is keith's father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 10:41:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7888081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morvish/pseuds/morvish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith finds out who his father is.</p>
<p>Commission for my beloved Rat Dad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers of Galra

The cell was small and fairly dank as spaceship cells went. Keith touched the walls to check for any loose panels, but they all held strong. There were some rusted over bolts, but despite a thousand ticks of trying to break them off, Keith knew – in his heart of hearts – that they weren’t moving anywhere. He could pick at the walls until his hands were bleeding and raw, but there was no way he could get out of this one. He would just have to wait.

He kicked the wall for one last good measure.

Keith fell into the corner with a groan, dragging a hand down his face. He hated being trapped. Everyone hated being trapped, but Keith could feel the walls shrinking into his body. They rippled down and locked Keith away from his core, and all Keith could think about was the great plains of space which stretched out away from this cell. It was unreachable, all that freedom.

They had taken away all the stuff he’d had on him, including his knife. Which his mom had given him. He groaned again. All he had were rusted cell walls, and his own mind to keep him company. Without being able to do something, without any obvious way forward, without kicking the entire room again, all Keith could do was focus on what went wrong. What led him to this point. He groaned in a shudder and bashed his head against the wall behind him.

He and Hunk had been following a Galra fleet in a small ship on a reconnaissance mission. They were just supposed to have been scouting. They had left the lions behind in order to be less conspicuous, and were just drifting quietly behind the fleet, when one of the ships ahead of them had slowed down.

Hunk had looked to Keith with concerned confusion, but Keith waved his worries aside and ploughed on ahead.

The bigger ship had slowed down beside theirs. Keith was sure it still hadn’t seen them. It was a huge ship; all grey plating with glowing purple strips, eerily vivid against the dark space beyond – looking artificial and too bright compared to the stars. The ship had positioned itself so the offshoot corridors from its main deck stretched out like the spindly limbs of a huge alien insect. There was no way such a massive vessel could have spotted them with their energy turned off.

Hunk had hushed himself, as though they might be able to hear them from within the ship. Keith had glared, and closed a few ports to slow their trajectory down in order to put them behind the ship once again. He had been irritated that they would have to risk restarting the engine to catch up again, and being spotted by the Galra ships’ onboard indicator systems.

Then suddenly, with what Keith would argue was the bare minimum of warnings, their ship had experienced an enormous juddering, throwing them wildly off course, as one of the spiny legs of the ship beside them appeared to have sucker punched the side of them with a cannon.

They had tumbled through space for a few sickening minutes before Keith slammed his hand forward to turn the engine on, and the ship revved into life, its bright lights showing up how green Hunk looked.

He vaguely remembered Hunk had said something about turning around, and heading back to the Castle. Instead Keith had swung the ship right around and blasted them towards where the cannon had come from.

A red light had flashed on and off inside the deck, and some alarm had been blaring, but all Keith could have focused on was that this huge ship had somehow managed to spot their tiny black one in the ocean of space.

Another cannon had raced towards them, and curiously it hadn’t been a cannon intended to kill. From what he could tell, it was an electrical-stun projectile, intended to disarm and neutralise. Keith had furrowed his brow and easily swivelled in the air to avoid it. Before Keith knew it, he had somehow found himself at the base of one of the legs of the massive ships.

“What now?” Hunk had whispered, half-annoyed, half-terrified.

Keith had gripped the controls tightly, and he could still remember the edge of the metal tiller biting into his palm as he’d tried to figure that out himself.

The ship then released another cannon headed towards them, and Keith had made up his mind. With a few presses of buttons and switches, he had given control to Hunk, and without even waiting to hear his reaction, he had shoved on his helmet and jet booster, and thrusted himself out of his seat. He had run to the airlock and after jamming the button, a moment later, he had leapt out into the coldness of space.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Hunk’s staticky voice had trickled through his helmet’s intercom in a panic, as the tiny ship he had just left, stuttered and wiggled as Hunk, a less experienced pilot, tried to straighten it away from the cannon that had just shot past it.

“Just trust me,” Keith had said. He had to find out how they had spotted their ship and had jetted himself to the nearest opening he could see on the leg of the ship.

“Just trust you?” Hunk had squeaked.

At that very moment, two things happened. Keith had placed a single foot on the surface of the big ship, and as he completed this movement, he had felt a dull thunk on top of his helmet and two heavy, metallic arms sling themselves around him and bring him to his knees, incapacitated.

He had dozily looked around to see his small ship fly off without him, though at least there were no cannons following it. The voice of Hunk had sputtered in his helmet, but Keith couldn’t quite make out what he had been trying to tell him. He had sighed hard and shakily; the knock on his head seemed to have drained all his energy, replacing it with a deep nausea. He had tried to lift himself to his feet but the hands on his shoulders were like clamps.

“Unh,” he had said, as they dragged him into the ship, and through the corridors, his feet only managing to keep up every now and then, before unceremoniously throwing him into this cell, where he had sat for what must have been hours. And now he was awake, with all the belongings he’d had on him taken away. The nausea had just about dissipated, but he was annoyed with himself. With his rashness.

He leant his head against the cold wall.

The next noise he heard, much later, was a creaking noise from somewhere beyond his cell. It created a sudden shift in Keith’s world; it created an escape, a single note of potential.

He stood up sharply, brushing his figure against the wall, trying to stay as hidden as possible. Even though he knew that whomever coming in would be able to spot him eventually in the empty cell, he wanted to make it as hard as possible.

There was a crack, and a stroke of light cut into Keith’s eyeline, and he shuffled to the far corner away from it. A figure entered, silhouetted against a doorway Keith couldn’t have detected before.

The figure was tall; too tall, he filled up the doorway. Keith assessed his options. A running kick to the intruder’s knees might work, their centre of gravity had to be pretty high. He would run past and out, and the next part of the escape would come to him then. He readied his legs to set off, when the figure cleared their throat.

Keith’s eyes had apparently adjusted to the light and he could make out strong cheekbones, high ears, and yellow eyes. He vaguely recognised the face as belonging to one of the commanders, or else some high ranking Galra soldier. Keith hadn’t paid much attention to Allura’s talk on the Galra military hierarchy – he figured all he needed to know was if someone was Galra, he would attack.

The figure stepped forward and Keith hesitated, he didn’t like when his foe did something unexpected. He didn’t like hesitating. He didn’t know why he was.

“Keith Kogane,” growled the soldier in a gruff voice that sounded as though it hadn’t been used in days.

Keith narrowed his eyes. His feet bounced when he noticed there was a gap left behind the figure and the doorway, where he had stepped through. A voice in his head which sounded remarkably like Lance warned him that it could be a trap. _But,_ he argued back internally, _being outside the cell is better than being inside. ___

The Lance inside his head shrugged smarmily, and disappeared from focus again.

Keith concentrated on the figure, deciding to make his escape once he had more information, trusting his internal Lance compass for once.

“Keith Kogane,” repeated the figure, and this time his voice broke halfway through. His eyebrows were raised up in what looked like some kind of sadness.

Keith shocked himself and took a step back. He didn’t like this; it didn’t feel right. He wanted to escape, but he didn’t want to have to push past this figure who suddenly gave off the stink of something like emotion or sentiment.

Keith touched the wall behind him, carefully spidering his hands along it, as he tried to slowly move around to the opposite wall where he would have more an advantage to slip past.

There was a flash of silver, and Keith saw the figure had a knife in his hand. He had raised it up so it was pointed towards Keith, purple face reflected in its shiny surface.

“Is this yours?” he asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Keith’s mouth had suddenly gone dry. He opened it for a moment, then shut it, looking down. He didn’t want to look at the figure’s face, which was creased with feeling.

“Is this yours?” repeated the figure, shaking it. “You had it on you when we found you.” Keith couldn’t tell whether he wanted him to say yes or no.

“Yes!” he finally managed, waving his arms in front of him. “Yes, that’s my knife. Are you going to give it back?” He was pleased he’d managed to get words out, let alone sarcasm. This entire conversation was intensely uncomfortable.

The figure’s face crumpled, and he dropped his arm with a sigh that could have easily been a sob. Keith looked away again at the floor. His usual fight instinct was gone – he felt as though he’d been thrown entirely off key. Through the silence of the metal cell, there was a ringing in one ear that he hadn’t noticed before.

“This is your knife,” the figure eventually said, simply. He rested a hand over his eyes, shoulders slumped. He twisted the knife in his hands, holding it between a finger and thumb, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edge. He offered the handle to Keith. “Take it,” he said. “As it’s yours.”

Keith quickly snatched it, still not quite looking straight at the figure. The knife was loose in his hand. He felt an itch in his spine; the instinct to fight and run breaking quickening footsteps over his tendons and limbs, starting from his hand, where he held his knife limply. He was hot and cold; uneasy and listless. The silence was heavy.

“Why-” Keith wasn’t sure how he was going to end his question, when he heard a familiar sound. His head shot straight up. The figure in front of him turned his own head, and behind him, through a brightly lit corridor, was a heavily panting Hunk racing towards them. Keith figured he had about two seconds to act before his escape was thwarted again. But before he could rush forward to swing a kick at the strange person’s legs, a large hand stopped him at the shoulder.

“Use the second exit on the left; I’ve ensured there will be no guards there.”

He pushed Keith forward, out of the cell, making Keith stumble slightly.

“But, why?” he managed to rasp, before deciding he didn’t want to know, and running towards Hunk, who cried out happily.

In the distance, he could make out the voice of the figure, just loud enough for them to hear, but not loud enough for Keith to know whether he had intended for them to hear. “Because – I’m your father.”

* * *

Keith sat in the seat next to Hunk’s in the ship. They had gone the way the soldier had told Keith to go, and met with zero resistance. Hunk had passed Keith a suit from a pack he was carrying, and they had hurriedly made it out of the Galran ship, and into their own smaller one.

Hunk had looked over at Keith worriedly too many times now. Keith was ready to snarl back at him, but he knew Hunk was only trying to be a friend.

Keith kicked himself up from the seat, and began to pace.

“Are you OK?” Hunk said, finally. Keith knew he’d been wanting to say it for a while – but not had it in him.

Keith kicked the ground, scuffing the floor.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice sounding foreign, breaking slightly. “That was – the worst Star Wars reference that has – ever happened.”

Hunk laughed nervously.

“I’m fine,” Keith said. “I’m totally fine.”

But before he knew what he was doing, he had shoved a fairly heavy radio off a shelf, watching it smash to the floor of the small ship with a satisfying crunch.

“Keith?” came Hunk’s voice, but it sounded distant and distorted, like it was coming through the broken radio.

Keith smacked his fist against the side of the wall, and he felt it burn his hand dully. There were angry tears stinging at his eyes.

“That’s not fair,” he said. “He’s not allowed to do that.”

“Do what?” came a tinny voice.

Keith wanted to respond but he didn’t know how. He fumed down at the smashed bits of metal and wiring at his feet, glaring at them with everything his mind couldn’t form into words. He glared down at them with the memory of his mother, loud and protective and dead. He glared down at them with the feeling he got when he would see a desert; that large expanse of heat and desperately quiet life. He glared down with what he knew were the eyes of Red, a symbol of what Keith knew to be the good in the universe.

He kicked the pile of metal, scattering bolts and wires across the floor.

He had never blamed his father for anything; he had never even thought much about his father. His mother had been more than enough for him, and when she died, Keith had busied himself with his skills and with space. He wanted to blame his father now, for something – for anything. But he couldn’t. All he felt was a creeping sense of guilt.

He turned to Hunk, panicked, as though Hunk might be able to sense it; the realisation that crawled up his arms and legs, to his torso. He clutched at the front of his suit. If his father was someone that high up in the Galran military, then who knows what could happen. He had already managed to find Keith in a tiny ship in the vastness of space. He must have been able to track Keith with – with his DNA or _something_. The thought was terrifying; this could easily be used against him.

More importantly, that could be used against Voltron.

And it would be Keith’s fault.

He must have been making some pretty pathetic noises, because Hunk had stopped the ship. Out of the large windows, bright spots of stars dotted an endless blue and black. The ship was unnervingly quiet when it was still.

Hunk walked towards Keith determinedly.

He wrapped Keith up in a hug.

Keith blinked, the clasp on his heart loosened slightly, and he felt himself sink into Hunk.

“Why did he have to be a bad guy?” Keith whispered.

Hunk patted him gently. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “You’re not.”

Keith let those words wash over him. He shifted slightly in Hunk’s grip, so his arms were clutching at Hunk’s.

He felt calmer, more centred. Keith wasn’t particularly used to physical touch, but since joining Voltron, he had remembered how much he appreciated it. He had to prioritise Voltron above all things. Hunk was right; he wasn’t a bad guy, he couldn’t let this change him. He just had to be more careful.

As he buried his head into Hunk’s shoulder, he promised himself – he would fight harder for Voltron, for the good in the universe. It was the only way to fight the confusion and anger he felt.

* * *

Keith slammed into the wall and was flung to the floor in the momentum. As he groaned at the mighty crack his body made against the metal plating, he could hear indistinct and faraway yelling over the unstoppable tide of gunfire. His head spun in hazy vision; he lifted it, struggling against his fluttering eyes. He gagged once, and fought back a second wave of nausea. He shoved himself to his feet and raced back into the fray.

The soldier who had thrown him at the wall had turned his back on Keith, heading away from him and toward Lance. Lance, much further down the hallway, was fending the soldiers off from himself, and Keith had to admit he was doing it pretty capably.

He was vaguely aware that Lance was yelling at him and sounded angry. But Keith focused on the soldier in front of him. He swung his bayard, and cut him down angrily; the soldier thunked to the ground, and Keith immediately swung round to the next Galran he could dispatch.  
The sound of Lance’s yelling approached closer, when Keith was flung to the floor once again. He hadn’t been counting, but it had happened more than usual in the fight. Gunfire and crashing noises rang over him, and Keith groaned as he failed to lift himself up at all. He felt friendly fingers at his arms. Keith growled as he finally managed to raise his head and attempted to throw the hands off him. He had to fight.

He had to fight.

“Keith, stop it,” hissed Lance, crouching next to him, and pulling him up painfully. “You ran out of my range, I couldn’t back you up at all.” Lance’s voice strained, as though he was holding back tears. He looked livid. “You’re _so_ damn lucky I’m good at this.”

Keith scoffed, but he coughed instead, and Lance had to half-carry him down a corridor as Keith hacked and wheezed. By the time they reached a relatively quiet zone, Keith felt hot and cold, and his head hurt badly. He was annoyed, he was so annoyed; he wanted to keep fighting, Lance should have left him alone. He shoved at Lance, but it was so weak, Lance must have barely felt it.

“Shut up,” said Lance, even though Keith hadn’t said anything. “You’ve got us lost and maybe even trapped. God, Keith, what the _quiznak_ were you thinking?” Lance was clearly panicked; his head was almost spinning as he tried to decide which directions to turn in the labyrinth of the Galran ship they were on. Keith’s feet were dragging behind him, and he couldn’t even work his mouth properly to bite something at Lance. “Oh, good comeback,” Lance barked at Keith’s distinct non-response.

Keith coughed again on Lance’s shoulder.

Lance propped him against a wall as he buzzed into the communicator. Keith closed his eyes, and focused on breathing while Lance attempted to figure out where they were. There was an annoying ringing noise in the ship, but over it, he heard his name used by Lance several times in snippy tones. He was too dizzy to pay any attention though.

Keith opened his eyes when Lance stopped speaking, and watched as Lance spun round to face him, furious.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he asked, grabbing Keith round his shoulders again and pulling him back along the corridor they had just gone down.

“Is this the right way?” mumbled Keith, managing to finally get something out.

“Yes,” griped Lance. “That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

Keith thought back to when Lance had first joined and how much he had grown since. He had gone from being cocky and pretty bad at - everything to do with Voltron. Now he was cocky and actually competent, more than competent. As he wheezed against Lance, Keith tried to analyse his own development, but it was impossible. Whenever Keith thought about himself these days, he could only imagine the abyss of space, and how he had fallen into it. He could only think about how he had to fight.

He coughed again, and Lance waited while Keith threw up in the corridor.

When they moved again, Lance was gentler.

“Keith,” he said softly. “What’s wrong? Seriously, buddy.”

Keith’s words got caught in his throat. He shook his head.

Lance sighed deeply, with some irritation, but didn’t question him further.

As he stumbled alongside Lance, he felt slightly stronger. They hurried quietly through the ship, down dark corridors in the less-well used areas of the place. After a while Keith pulled himself from Lance’s grip. Lance gave him a sceptical eye, but Keith ignored it, working hard to keep his gait steady. Just before they were about to turn a corner, Lance shushed him, pushing a hand against his chest to keep him back – and Keith figured the ringing he could hear must have been in his ears and not the ship like he was hoping, because he couldn’t hear anything.

Looking at Lance with his brow furrowed, listening out. Keith knew he was trying to determine whether they were going to have to fight or not – because that’s what he would be doing if it weren’t for the ringing in his ears.

Without warning, his blood went from still to boiling within a second.

He charged round the corner, and attempted to swing his bayard down on the first soldier he saw. His swing missed its mark though – his arm too tired, his stance too crooked. He realised he was going to lose this fight a split second before it happened, and he was knocked out cold.

* * *

When Keith woke up, the first thing he did was fall into the surprisingly sturdy arms of Allura.

The first thing he could think was of how she smelt vaguely of some kind of flower, not a flower he knew. He wished he knew what kind of flower.

He forced his eyes open, and cringed at the bright light of the podbay. They were alone there, which was odd; usually when people were in the pods, a few people were around for their waking up. That meant Allura was here to tell him something serious. In a brief panic, he wondered whether she was going to tell him to leave.

Allura held him in a strong grip, lifting him to a standing position. He wavered slightly, but once she let go of him, he found his strength.

“Keith,” she said sternly. He blinked, annoyed at how long his eyes were taking to get accustomed to the light. “We must talk.”

“About what?” he muttered, voice gravelly from lack of use. His throat was fine despite all his hacking and coughing, but he supposed that was the healing pod. It felt raw though; just a little too fresh, like it needed rest.

“Lance told Shiro about your behaviour on the last mission, and Shiro came to ask me to talk to you.”

Keith furrowed his brow. That wasn’t fair. They couldn’t start talking about him like he was some problem that needed dealing with.

“About what?” he asked.

“About your father, Keith,” she said simply, her own brow drawn into a scowl. Keith scoffed, but it was almost a sigh. “I think there are some issues you need to resolve.”

Keith crossed his arms and looked away. This was what he had wanted to avoid. When he and Hunk had first got back to the Castle after the discovery, Keith had asked Hunk to quietly tell Shiro and Allura. Keith had gone straight to his room, and pretended to sleep. Though Shiro had given him a few meaningful looks since, he had resolutely ignored them. He didn’t want to talk about the diplomatic repercussions of having a half-Galran paladin fighting for the good of the universe. He didn’t want to talk about the danger he was putting Voltron in. He didn’t want to talk about how selfish he was being for staying in Voltron.

“Apparently, Lance told Shiro that you had, and I quote here, ‘completely lost his quiznak’ which other than being an entirely inaccurate usage of that word, as well as physiologically impossible, is rather worrying.” Allura’s tone was a little lighter. At least Lance’s ridiculousness could be relied on to relieve some tension, even when he wasn’t there. “I’m sorry to thrust this on you right now, but I worried that if I waited, then we would never be able to discuss it.”

Keith averted his eyes. He supposed that was true.

“What I want to know is _why_ you were acting this way. We all know and often admire your recklessness, but from the sounds – and looks – of it, you went much too far,” her voice was softer now. Keith swallowed, but his throat felt too dry. “I know that discovering who your father is after such a long time must be a difficult thing to process, but … we want to help. We want our paladin back.”

Keith blinked a few times. There was a long silence, and Keith still couldn’t look up.

“Keith,” Allura said, very quietly this time. “Do you want to know more about him?”

Keith opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He finally managed to raise his head.

“You know who he is?” he asked.

“Well, Hunk took down some details from the ship you were on, and Coran did some digging – and was able to discover the full list of commanding officers on the ship. We think we know which one he is.”

Keith nodded.

“That’s not what you’re concerned about though is it?” Allura said, a sad smile on her face. Keith huffed, and looked up, tightening the grip of his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t matter, does it?” she said. “I think I can help.”

She beckoned for Keith to follow her. She swept him through to a room he hadn’t been in before. There were no windows looking out, just plain walls and empty space, with a single dashboard in the centre. Allura headed to it.

“This is the archive room,” she explained. “We keep all the recordings from … before in here.”

Keith stared on blankly.

She fiddled with a dial, and suddenly the image of a smiling family appeared. A Galran family.

Keith stepped forward without realising. A hand had slipped out from where it had been crossed over his chest, and reached out to the family.

“What?” he whispered, to no one in particular.

Allura shifted the dial again.

“Galra and Altea were allies once,” she said.

There was a short video of an Altean child and a Galran child chasing each other on a pink beach, green waves lapping at the strange sand. There was no sound, but Keith could see they were screaming and laughing. The video looped. Keith stared.

“Zarkon himself was a paladin once, as you know,” she said. Her voice echoed slightly in the large empty room. Keith couldn’t stop staring at the Galran child. They were very happy. “Galra is a beautiful planet, and though they’ve always been a militaristic people, historically they were also good diplomats. Not like Alteans obviously,” she said with a sly smile. “But we share a lot of historic and cultural overlap. And one day, when Zarkon is stopped, when peace is re-established, I believe that we will see a Galra we can be allies with again.”

Another image flickered above. It was a young Galran; strange to see without a uniform on. They were pulling a face at whatever the camera was. They reminded Keith of Lance. He moved towards the dashboard, hands ghosting over the controls. Allura gripped his arm, slightly too tight – but Keith knew she wasn’t used to offering physical comfort.

“When you fight for the universe, remember who you’re fighting for, Keith. Where you’re from doesn’t matter. Because despite all the terrible things your father might have done or stand for, Keith, remember that you do not. You stand with Voltron. You stand for all the good in the universe, and all those people you’ve saved. All those people who remember you and love you, Keith. We love you.” She turned him round, both her hands on his shoulders. “No one can take that away.”

Keith swallowed and nodded.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said finally. She nodded once, curtly, then with one last smile, she swept out of the door, leaving Keith alone with an archive of people he never knew were his kin.

Keith spent the next day and night in the archive, scrolling through photos and videos of Galra and its people. When he finally felt tired of looking at smiling faces, he went out to join his Voltron family for dinner, and was greeted warmly.

When he asked for seconds, Hunk patted him roughly on the shoulder, and Keith laughed.

* * *

It was a few months later when Keith finally met his father again.

He hadn’t been on the mission, but Hunk had confirmed that the Galran soldier they had captured was indeed Keith’s father. Keith was told his name was Thace, and that he was fairly high up in the chain of command, but not by much. They were taking him to a prison, as it was en route to their next destination.

Keith felt sick as he climbed down the steps to the cells in the Castle. He hadn’t even realised they had cells. He knew it was something he had to do though – he wasn’t sure anything could have stopped him.

At the bottom of the stairs, there was a corridor of white doors, and Shiro had informed him that Thace was in the fourth one on the left.

There was a clear window looking into his room. It seemed like a fairly comfortable room; much more comfortable than the one Keith had found himself in when he had been captured by a Galran ship. Inside, sat dejectedly on the small white bed was his father. His head was bent, hands lying loosely on his legs.

Keith’s head buzzed, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. He considered going back upstairs, and letting that be the end of it. But he couldn’t help himself. He knocked on the door’s window pane.

Thace looked up. Keith refused to let his face show anything.

He pressed the button of the communicator next to the door and opened his mouth but nothing came out.

Thace looked at him, scared and confused.

“Hello,” Keith said eventually.

“Hello,” said Thace.

There was a horrible silence that spanned for minutes. Keith stubbornly refused to speak – he wasn’t the one who owed Thace anything.

“If you’re here,” Thace said slowly, breaking the silence, “to free me or help me out in some way – please don’t.”

Keith raised an eyebrow, breaking his rule of not giving anything away.

“I won’t,” he said.

Thace laughed softly.

“I’m tired,” he said. “Tired of war. I want to stop. I think part of me let you capture me.”

Keith deliberated for a moment. “Actually, Voltron is just better than you.”

Thace’s smile was weak. “That too.”

Keith grated his teeth. There was a question he wanted to ask; one he had wanted to ask ever since he had started looking at the archives. But he didn’t want Thace to talk to him like they were pals.

“What’s your favourite thing about Galra?”

He did it; he asked it. If Thace acted the wrong way, Keith could just leave.

“The … Hm,” Thace deliberated, rocking back where he was still sitting. “It’s the mountain valleys,” he said. “The ones near my home. They’re beautiful, wide and imposing, and covered in these black flowers.” He was staring at the ceiling, though his eyes were fogged over, and Keith could see he was picturing them for himself. “During my military training, we had to march through them, and I always wanted to stop and enjoy the views, but I guess I never did.”

Keith watched as Thace sighed, bringing himself out of his reverie.

“That’s my favourite thing about Galra,” he said.

Keith stood there for a moment. Finally, he nodded, gratefully, and headed back down the corridor. He had forgotten to press the button to stop the communication though, as he heard Thace call after him, “I hope you get to see them one day.”

As Keith climbed the stairs back up to the training room where he intended to beat the quiznak out of some gladiators, he thought to himself that he hoped so too.

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much Galran lore in Voltron so far, but I tried to stick with what we know - with a little bit of inspiration from the previous series. I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
